


A Soft Place To Land

by shutupanddancewithmee



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:30:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupanddancewithmee/pseuds/shutupanddancewithmee
Summary: What happens when a certain Manc and a certain Scouser inadvertently swap their suitcases at the airport? A lot of things, apparently.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/gifts).



Gary was in a hurry.

 

 

His plane had just landed at the John Lennon Airport in Liverpool after a 20-hour flight from Singapore and he couldn’t wait to get home. 

First of all, he was in this devilish city against his will, because the power at the Manchester airport had gone out, and it was announced mid-air that all the flights will be redirected to the Liverpool one, as it’s the nearest.

Gary had rolled his eyes at that announcement. He hated that city and the city hated him.

 

 

After he got off the plane, he had to get his luggage. He had waited for about 5 minutes, when he saw his big Samsonite suitcase with little colourful drawings all over it slowly moving on the baggage carousel towards him.

* * *

 

_"It’s the special Keith Haring collection! Julie picked it for you, we hope you like it!” Phil had exclaimed, as he was handing his and his wife’s birthday present to his brother._

_“Thanks Phil and Julie! Although I have no bloody idea who Keith Haring is!” Gary had said, and the three of them laughed._

_“He’s a famous urban street artist. Now, come on, we’re missing out on the party!” Julie urged._

* * *

 

Even though its design was a bit odd, Gary actually loved the suitcase. It was bright, vibrant and different. Gary didn’t even check the name tag, because he knew his suitcase was so specific that practically no one would have the same. He just grabbed it and rushed out of the airport as fast as possible to get a taxi to the station. The last thing he wanted right now was being recognized and spat at in one of the cities he hated most on this planet.

 

In an hour and a half he was finally, finally home in Manchester. His cream-coloured walls with a dozen of United jerseys and cabinets with various trophies welcomed him warmly.

 

“Freaking finally!” Gary sighed. He couldn’t wait for his long-awaited nap.

 

He threw his travel clothes in the laundry and hopped into his massive bed, eyes already closing.

 

Not a minute had passed, when he jumped off the bed angrily.

“Fucking hell!!” Gary swore out loud.

 

He had just remembered that he had to unpack his luggage. He had bought some chocolates and souvenirs, mostly presents for his nieces, and didn’t want them to be ruined overnight. Although he would have gladly stayed in bed and slept for an eternity, he had to do the unpacking now, because he had an appointment with some people from Sky Sports early in the morning. The only thing Gary knew about this appointment was that there was a “massive” idea about something, and they hoped “both you and him say yes, Gary”. Whoever was that “him”.

 

So, of course, Gary could have gone back to bed, but leaving the suitcase unopened and stuffed to the hilt for another 20 hours was not an option for him.

He quickly threw a T-shirt on and kneeled beside the big bag, tugging on its zipper. He lifted the top part and was greeted with the single sight he would never in his life expect to be greeted with:

 

**_The Liverpool crest._ **

 

 

 _"What the bloody hell?”_ Gary yelled angrily, staring in disbelief. “Is this a fucking joke?!!?”

 

 

It was a black Liverpool hoodie, with a red hood and a red half of one of the sleeves, like the ones the coaching staff would wear.

Gary lifted it up carefully, as if it would bite him.

 

_This was totally, utterly and absolutely **not** his suitcase._

 

It was a man’s suitcase though, because other than the damn hoodie there were a dozen of boxers and a few pairs of black socks, some expensive cologne, three T-shirts (which were too big to be women’s), a pair of trousers and a pair of shoes.

 

He must have mixed up his suitcase. But how? Wasn’t he the only one with a suitcase that specific? Turns out he wasn’t. A certain Liverpudlian also had one, and now he had to figure out who that was, so he could return this ugly hoodie and all other belongings, and get his suitcase back.

He began desperately searching for a name tag, or something which could at least suggest who the owner was.

Luckily, there was a little red leather tag. Again with the Liverpool crest on it. Gary snorted.

 

“Let’s find out who you are, you Scouse bastard!!” he mumbled and grabbed the tag.

 

Unfortunately, there was nothing on it except two letters: _ **J.C.**_

 

“Oh my God! Oh my fucking God!! That’s it, I give up! I’m going to sleep.” Gary yelled, cheeks reddening in anger. “A bloody Scouser has stolen my bag! Unbelievable!” he continued mumbling on his way to the bed. “J.C.!! What the sodding hell does that mean?!? Who could that be?”

 

He was going to deal with all this after his meeting with the Sky Sports team tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Jamie had got off the plane the quickest way possible, because he needed a wee badly.

 

He had just landed from Brighton.

He had gone there on a short trip, to have a few pints with some old friends, and play some golf. But now his few days off were over, in fact he had to get back to work tomorrow. He had an important meeting with some people from Sky Sports.

 

“ _A new show, probably_ ” Jamie was thinking while walking towards the baggage carousel.

He was told only that there was a “huge” surprise and that he was going to “love” his new colleague. What Jamie hadn’t liked was the teasing laughter from the Sky Sports’ people that followed that sentence. 

 

There were about 10-15 bags left on the carousel, and Jamie recognized his in a heartbeat. The white suitcase with colourful little pictures all over it was standing there, as if it was waiting for him.

Jamie was really proud of this suitcase, because he was told by the lady that sold it to him in some fancy shop in London that it’s a unique, and only a few people in Europe, or even the world, would have it.

He grabbed it quickly and made his way to the taxi-stand.

 

Once home, he decided to unpack his luggage and do some laundry simply because he had nothing to do, and wasn’t sleepy just yet.

 

 He grabbed the suitcase and dragged it to the laundry room. As he reached to the zipper, something threw him off. First of all, his name tag wasn’t where it was supposed to be – on the top handle. He frantically began searching for it, and in fact noticed one on the side handle, which was…

… _a black-red one_.

Correction: _a black-red Manchester United name tag was hooked there._

 

This was definitely **not** his.

 

He turned it around and read:

_**Gary Alexander Neville**_.

 

It was written in italics and a signature stood prominently underneath.

 

Neville? Gary Neville? As in the Gary Neville, that dirty rat-faced Manc bastard who Jamie was that close to beating up in that 2010 derby?

 

Jamie felt like throwing up. He let go of the suitcase and kicked it hard.

 

After a few minutes, his anger subdued, and he decided to search through the luggage to find some kind of contact to the Manc. He wanted this damn suitcase to be out of his house as soon as possible. After that he was going to phone the airport and report his lost one.

Jamie pulled the zipper slightly, with disgust. “ _God, why me_ ” he thought. “ _w_ _hy out of all the billions of people on this Earth Neville has to have the same suitcase as me?_ ”

 

Lots of small packages, and a few boxes of candy greeted him when he opened the suitcase. Jamie picked up one package. It was clearly a souvenir of some sort.

“Been on a vacation, eh, Neville?” Jamie mumbled and continued rummaging through the Manc’s stuff. Apart all these things, there were obviously some clothes – a jacket, a few pairs of trousers, a pullover, two shirts…but no sign of any documents or business cards or anything that could contain Neville’s phone number or e-mail at least.

 

How even did he take Gary’s suitcase, in that at the Liverpool airport? There must have been some sort of a mistake.

 

“Man, I can’t deal with this right now!!” Jamie yelled angrily, got up from where he was sitting on the floor and kicked the suitcase again, as if it was to blame.

 

He decided he was going to fix all this after his meeting with Sky Sports tomorrow.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Gary woke up early the next day, deciding he will show up a bit earlier at the Sky Studios, as all very professional pundits do, of course.

He parked his car outside the big main building and decided he’d go for a coffee first. It was 7.30, after all.

 

He made his way to the cafeteria, wondering if it will be open this early. Thankfully, it was. A middle-aged looking blonde lady and a man were sitting at one of the far ends of the place, with their backs turned to Gary.

“Good morning, Mr. Neville! What will it be today?” the cheerful bartender – a lady just over her 50’s, asked, in a bit _too cheerful_ way for 7.30 in the morning.

“Morning.” Gary mumbled. “The strongest coffee you’ve got, please. Haven’t woken up properly yet.”

 

The lady chuckled.

 

“What’s so funny?” Gary almost snapped. He wasn’t in the mood – he hadn’t yet had enough sleep after the 20-hour flight yesterday.

“Oh, nothing, Mr. Neville, I’m sorry, it’s just – when Mr. Carragher arrived ten minutes ago, he asked the absolute same. In fact, probably with the same words!” The bartender explained and giggled again, while turning the coffee machine on and grabbing a cup.

 

Hold up. _**Hold up.**_ Since when he and that dirty Scouser read each other’s minds? And where even is he!? Gary had a thing or a few to discuss with him. Like _WHERE THE HELL WAS HIS SUITCASE._

 

Gary cleared his throat, and, putting on a fake smile, said: “Oh, really! I had no idea he had already arrived, we actually have a meeting with some people in half an hour upstairs! Do you, by any chance, um,” Gary stuttered, “know his whereabouts?”

 

The lady looked at him as if he was speaking Chinese. Gary would’ve reacted the same way if he were at her place – since when Mancs were looking for Scousers - urgently?

 

“I meant, um, do you have any idea where he went?” Gary asked impatiently. “We have something to discuss, you see.”

 

Her eyes widened even more, if possible, but she regained composure in a second, smiled and pointed towards the corner of the cafeteria: “He’s right there, with Mrs. Cates!” she exclaimed.

 

Gary turned around and saw, this time more clearly – Kelly Cates and Carragher were chatting animatedly over two steaming cups of coffee.

 

Gary was ready to go over there and punch Carragher on the head and yell about about the suitcase, but the regained himself. “ _You’re at Sky Studios – your **workplace!**_ ' _Calm down!_ " he thought. He'd square his accounts with the Scouser later in the parking lot.

 

“Here you go, Mr. Neville, that’d be £2.50.” the lady broke the trail of Gary’s thoughts.

He grabbed the cup, basically threw the money on the bar, mumbled a “ _thank you so much_ ” and ran off before Carragher or Kelly saw him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Come onnn, Kelly, you ‘ave to tell me!!” Jamie whined at his colleague, and the blonde woman laughed.

“Jamie, the meeting is in 15 minutes! You’ll find out who it is! It would be so great, if I were a viewer I would pay so much money to watch this!!!” Kelly said and giggled again, this time harder than before.

“You are a devil woman! Let’s go upstairs!” Jamie squeaked and jumped out of his chair.

 

 

“ _It’s absolutely not Henry_ ” Jamie thought, while entering the lift with Kelly. “ _John Terry? Not very likely. Redknapp? Neville – Phil or… his awful brother, Gary….God, please,no.._ ”

 

“ _8 th floor_” announced a robot voice from the lift, and the doors opened.

 

“Come on, Jamie, look, your partner is already here!” Kelly said and jumped off the lift and into the anteroom of the studio.

 

 

Jamie turned and…

his worst prediction came to life.

Gary Neville was sprawled on a couch, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, one leg over the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would very much like to thank Rainbow Rowell, whose novel "Fangirl" i am reading at the moment - without her this chapter wouldn't be standing in front of you now, with another on the go. enjoy friends! :D

**Author's Note:**

> have a little carraville something to cheer us up on this derby day! this has been sitting on my laptop for ages, but i finally decided to post it today. English is not my first language, so please tell me if you find any mistakes or sth like this! :) now this is how the famous suitcase looks like: http://www.glamasia.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/GlamAsia-Samsonite-KeithHaring-1.png  
> more to come soon bc i almost have chapter 2 at the ready!  
> title derived from the song A Soft Place To Land by Kathleen Edwards. enjoy!  
> 


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